


o, to take what we love inside

by chekovsgunshow



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, just some... nice fluff for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekovsgunshow/pseuds/chekovsgunshow
Summary: The worst kept secret in all of Eorzea: the Warrior of Light was an impulse spender.  Or, as Lyra herself put it, she just liked to give loved ones gifts.   After a battle, early mornings, or late nights, one was more likely to find her wandering the streets of a market - picking up items, haggling, laughing than you were to find her sleeping
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light, Scions of the Seventh Dawn & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "What is a legacy?  
> It's planting seeds you never get to see." - Hamilton, LMM
> 
> "O, to take what we love inside,  
> to carry within us an orchard, " - From blossoms, Li-Young Lee
> 
> I won't promise you it'll be all cute and nice but, hey, self-indulgence.

“Why do you keep giving me things,” said Minfilia, curled into herself. “I’m not her, I’m not your Minfilia.”

Lyra flexed her hands, not-quite basking in the cold light that hung over Amh Arang perpetually but putting on the airs of doing so. “I know you aren’t.” 

“But then,” Minfilia trailed off. 

Lyra turned to look at the young girl, smiling softly. “They’re for you, Minfilia. Not her, you.” 

“But Thancred, he just… he’s just waiting for his Minfilia to come back, I know. I don’t…” 

“Yes and no,” murmured Lyra. She flexed her hands once more and picked up her latest project from her lap. Threading the fine gold wire through the leather was threatening to cut through the callouses on her hands. “Thancred doesn’t handle loss well, especially not the loss of Scion Minfilia. He had, before, made peace with her and himself to an extent. But, seeing you, he feels guilt.” 

“If everything goes right,” said Minfilia, wiping at her face. “He won’t feel guilty anymore because he’ll have her back and I’ll have done something right.” 

Lyra hummed and continued, “you remind me of someone I know on the Source, actually. Or rather, your situation does.” 

“Your Minfilia?” 

“Gods, no. A girl, Rielle, and her protector, Sidurgu, and their relationship,” said Lyra. She finished stitching the final rune into the leather. “Rielle’s mother locked her away in a tower after finding out that her father had partaken in dragon’s blood. When Sidurgu and Fray, the true Fray, found out - they broke her out, saving Rielle. After Fray died… Sidurgu tried to take care of Rielle alone. He wasn’t, isn’t, very good at caring for others, though. Or talking. Or cooking. Or anything, really. Other than swinging his big sword around. Hearing about her plight, a few outside forces plotted to help Rielle out - by faking a kidnapping and forcing Sidurgu to fight for her in a trial by combat. Unfortunately for us, there aren’t any moogles we could be waylaid by in Norvrandt to beat some sense into Thancred. Imagine pixies but… less effective and competent.” 

Minfilia giggled. 

Emboldened, Lyra continued, “actually, they have a little song they sing - when Good King Moggle Mog is around and when he isn’t. If you want, we might be able to get Shtola and Urianger to wear white outfits and we can pretend that we’re the ghosts of his past come to fight Thancred and beat sense into him.” 

Minfilia laughed outright this time. “He wouldn’t even know how to react! No matter how much time we spent in Il Mheg he never… never really learned how to work, play with the pixies.” 

“Thancred, even after all this time, is much too concerned with appearances,” said Lyra, grinning wickedly. “We could drop mud on his coat. When we return to the Crystarium, we can dye his hair black.” 

“When,” Minfilia trailed off, sobering up quickly. 

Lyra sighed, backtracking. It was a genuine mistake - to mention that they would eventually return to the Crystarium together. She had a feeling, a notion, that the upcoming events would shake out that way. “Minfilia, for all the burdens that you bear, you’re still a child. The Minfilia I knew, the Minfilia that I met at the end - before she came to the first to stop the flood, that woman? She would want you to live your life. “

A pause. 

“But,” said Lyra, throwing an arm around Minfilia’s shoulders. She drew the young girl close, presumptuously dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “You have the right to make your own choices. Just know in all the time I’ve known you, for as short as this has been, I’ve been grateful that I've met you and so proud of how much you've grown."

Minfilia sniffled, leaning into the warrior next to her. “Thanks.”

"Always."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you know, like nya?

The Warrior of Light stumbled through the portal. How she managed to make something that should be an instantaneous shift ungraceful, the Exarch didn’t know - and didn’t have the desire to find out. It was enough to see that, despite everything written and unwritten that had unfolded in the warrior’s life, she was still the same gangly young woman underneath it all. 

Every interaction was gift enough, justification enough for the fast approaching end of his tale. It had to be, no matter how G’raha Tia stirred under his breast - waking up for the first time in decades. 

Lyra Stone’s face lit up, surprised and delighted. “Exarch! I was hoping to see you.” 

“Where else would I be?” The Exarch laughed. Unnoticed the tension drained from his shoulders. “As long as I’m able, warrior, I will always be here to greet you. The first time my aim was just… a little off.” 

Lyra opened her mouth and then closed it, cutting off whatever she was going to originally say. For a moment, G’raha Tia clawed at the tight restraints the Exarch held over himself whenever the Warrior of Light was in his presence. It would be so easy, so easy indeed to draw her close - tell her everything. Let Lyra know that this tale would not end with her dead, as he knew she thought. 

“I have something for you,” said Lyra, finally speaking. She looked away for a moment, rummaging through her bag as though she didn’t know where any singular item was in it at any given moment. She stalled for time as though the Exarch wasn’t looking at her like he would give her all the time in all possible worlds - as recompense for the deeds he asked of her. “It’s a gift. It’s kind of a long story how I received this but.” 

The Warrior of Light trailed off. She closed the gap between herself and the Exarch, pulling the small brooch out of her bag. The aesthetics were familiar to her in a removed sense, similar enough to the designs found in the Fractal Continuum to be marked as Allagan. She held out the brooch, cradled in her hands. Intricate patterns weaved of gold resting on callouses from hours, days, years worth of battles - at this point. “It’s Allagan, Princess Salina’s most likely. I can’t be certain, of course, given everything. I found it in Othard of all places which didn’t make sense at first but the leader of the Onishishu, he knew her and Dresch and those who made it out of Allag before the fourth Calamity. Sorry, I need to backtrack. The Onishishu scholars were responsible for so much advancement in Othard as a proving ground for warriors, probably in response to the Calamity and I,” 

The Exarch cut her off, gently, “this is a treasure, dear warrior. One that I would love to hold close for the rest of my days.” 

Lyra looked up from her hands, familiar enough with the Exarch’s tells at this point. Her eyes roved his face, searching what little she could see. “But you don’t think you’re worthy of this.” 

The Exarch closed his eyes, sighing. “It’s not a question of worthiness so much as -” 

“Exarch, this gift… I’ve carried it for what feels like years now. The original recipient, I’ve mentioned him once - asked you about him. G’raha Tia. This was, is, his legacy. Princess Salina was the noble to make it out of Allag, to share her blood - to have descendents that stretch to the present. I had held onto it, hoping to be there when my friend woke.” Here, Lyra paused - swallowing. Perhaps it was unfair to admit this to the Exarch - but who else in the First could understand the tangle of guilt wrapped in duty and tied with the knowledge that you could not fail at your duties. “With every battle, that seems less likely. I’m not an Allag scholar, I haven’t the time, but I know enough to know that you’re also a descendent. Whether you came before or after G’raha - I don’t expect to be told. But this is also your history and it’s unfair of me to horde it - just based on a hope.” 

Each word was murmured. There was barely any space between the two as Lyra pressed the brooch into his hands. Partially, she wasn’t certain if Emet-Selch was listening in. As… cantankerously benevolent as he acted, as interested as he was in her ability to contain the Light, whatever plans the Exarch had - they definitely ran counter to what the Ascian wanted. It was different, playing fast and loose with her secrets and the enemy - not someone else’s. 

Lyra wanted to have this - to be close. Just one moment to savor, as greedy as it was. She gently closed the Exarch’s hands around the brooch, breathing in deep. Taking a step back, she saw as the man’s slack jaw slowly shifted to an amazed smile - one that seemed to be directed towards her again and again. It was like watching the sun rise over the Azim Steppe. 

“So, please take this gift,” said Lyra, sketching a stately bow. She was going to do anything she could to court those smiles, while she had the time. 

“Of course.” The Exarch responded, eventually. Lyra watched his throat work for a moment. “Like I said, I’ll treasure this. Thank you for a priceless piece of history.”

“You’re deserving of this - and much more,” said Lyra fervently, hands clasped in front of her. She looked to the side for a moment. “I’m sure you have work to do so I’ll just.” 

The Warrior of Light turned on her heel, briskly walking out of the Occular. 

The Exarch’s head lifted, watching her go. The Exarch forgot himself for a moment as G’raha Tia laughed wild and loud. He shook his head. “You always had to have the last word, Lyra, didn’t you?”


End file.
